


Childhood’s End

by Zerrat



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Coming of Age, Community: ff_land, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrat/pseuds/Zerrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the conflict with Zemus, Palom realizes that somewhere along the journey, he's changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childhood’s End

**Author's Note:**

> Not particularly compliant with the events of the After Years.

Up in the Tower of Wishes, the magic of their prayers finally died down, leaving them standing in an uncomfortable silence. Edward still looked worried, Yang concerned, and beside Palom, Porom had her head ducked, whispering something in a low voice. Palom understood his sister's worry. Above them, on the moon, a man they'd come to know as a brother was battling against the ancient evil that had caused the world such problems.

Palom began to fidget, sighing in frustration as he snuck a glance at the Elder. The Elder's hands were folded before him, his face serene. Palom huffed and crossed his arms, while Porom absently shushed him. In spite of how annoying it was, the elder's calmness reminded Palom of all those lessons, the ones about patience, responsibility, duty and everything else. They had always seemed so frightfully dull, and he'd never really taken those old sayings seriously.

Now, he wasn’t so sure he could dismiss the elder’s words.

Something felt different, since he and his sister had awoken from stone. Maybe it was a current in the air, or that faint hint of malice that Palom knew was emanating down from the moon.

Back before Golbez had made his move for the crystals, Palom had done as he’d pleased. He'd taken note only of the lessons that he found himself interested in, while dismissing the drier magical-development theories with a hint of derision. What use did he have to constrain himself to the learnings of those with lesser minds?

He practiced his magic by feel and by instinct, and his raw talent had gotten him through the worst of his tests. Though Palom neglected many of his studies, he was still counted among Mysidia’s most promising students. The Mysidians had called him a genius, and he'd taken great pride in how easily he'd achieved such status.

It had taken the Dark Knight's return to Mysidia to knock Palom from his ways. With a few words and a promise, he had been swept into an adventure beyond imagining, a story the likes of which only bards would sing of. Saving the world? Pitting himself against the Lunar Archfiends, and feeling the terrifying undercurrent of Golbez’s hatred? Taking part in an adventure that went all the way to the moon?

Somewhere along the way, Palom realized that he had changed. He wasn't certain of when it had occurred, only that it had. Perhaps it was witnessing Cecil's transformation into a paladin, that day atop Mount Ordeals. Perhaps it was coming to understand the sacrifices that had ensured that Cecil continued on, or the ripples of betrayal that had attempted to hinder that journey. Maybe it was listening to Tellah's stories of his lost daughter, a victim of naught but happenstance.

It was with those stray memories of the old Sage, that the gravity of the situation struck Palom.

Should Zeromus win – should Cecil die, a worried thought intruded – then the whole world was going to perish. There would be no more time for childish pranks, no more time to learn that last vital piece of magic, no second chance to realize his potential.

If Zeromus won, the defense of the Earth would fall to those in the Tower, and after sensing the terrifying might of Zemus' pawn and the Archfiends, Palom was no longer so sure in his ability to win when it counted.

The world had changed when Zemus had played his hand, and so had Earth's people. No longer could Palom look at the world as a joke, as a friendly place where he could drift along, content with his own raw talent. The world needed him to be the best he could be. He needed to be a better mage, a wiser man, a more dedicated student.

Palom shot Porom a quick glance, to where she sat cross-legged at his side. She met his eyes briefly, but in that moment, Palom knew that she'd come to much the same conclusion, minutes ago. He pouted a little, appalled that he'd been so slow on the uptake, before sighing. Porom took his hand and squeezed it reassuring.

No matter what the outcome of Cecil's battle, Palom knew that they'd face the future together.


End file.
